


The Perception of Ianto Jones

by Verasteine



Series: The Education of Ianto Jones [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-06
Updated: 2009-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:50:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verasteine/pseuds/Verasteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>His anger simmered rather than boiled, now, but it was there.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perception of Ianto Jones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blackbird_Song](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackbird_Song/gifts).



> Thanks to [](http://smirnoffmule.livejournal.com/profile)[**smirnoffmule**](http://smirnoffmule.livejournal.com/), for the beta and the advice. Written for [](http://blackbird-song.livejournal.com/profile)[**blackbird_song**](http://blackbird-song.livejournal.com/). I can't hold a candle to the fic you wrote for me, and its epic awesomeness, but I can give you this. Ianto Jones, a month after "The Education". Enjoy.

[](http://www.flickr.com/photos/verasteine/3962588158/)  
\--

"If you're angry with me..." Jack started.

"I'm not angry," Ianto replied with gritted teeth. "I just wish..."

"What?" Jack demanded.

"That you -- oh, forget about it."

He took two steps down the walkway before Jack was grabbing his arm. "Wait a minute--"

Ianto jerked out of his grip. "No. I said, forget it."

Jack stood still and regarded him. "Just tell me, is it something I've done?"

Ianto put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. "No. Yes. _No_. It's not your fault."

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Jack..." He sighed. "Look, it's not your fault, okay? You can't help--"

Jack interrupted before he could finish his sentence. "Can't help myself? Please. I was expecting a little bit more respect from you."

"Damn it, Jack!" Ianto flailed briefly in exasperation. "I know it's not your fault! It's not about you, it's just--"

"I don't even know what _it_ is," Jack broke in again, gritting his teeth. "Will you talk to me? Jesus, Ianto, what are we fighting about?"

"We're not fighting," Ianto said, forcing his voice to remain neutral even though he felt like he was fraying around the edges.

"Really? Then what do you call this? You were about to stalk out that door." Jack made a stabbing motion at the cog wheel. "Look, Ianto, if you want to spend some time by yourself, go ahead. We're not joined at the hip. I'll be here tomorrow. But don't--" Jack paused for a moment. "Don't do it if it's to punish me for something that I've no idea about, all right?"

"It's not your fault!" Ianto burst out.

His words echoed off the walls, and then it was quiet.

"I know," Jack said, gently, when the silence had settled. "What I don't know is what you're talking about. What's going on with you?"

Ianto sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "This afternoon... at the coffee shop, after we came back from the scene of crime."

Jack nodded.

"You-- You made-- You put your arm around me."

"Yes," Jack said slowly. "But why...?"

Ianto looked at his shoes, then forced himself to look back at Jack. "They didn't like it."

"Who, the team?" Jack frowned. "Not the team. The staff?"

Ianto nodded. "It's not that I don't-- I-- I'm not comfortable with public displays of affection."

"I know," Jack said. He stood looking at Ianto for a moment, face still creased in a frown. "Did the waiters say something to you?"

"No. But I could tell."

Jack nodded. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Ianto repeated tonelessly.

"No. Not yours, either." Jack stepped closer, but didn't reach out. "More theirs, really."

Ianto looked away, staring at the wall and clenching his fists. Jack's fingers on his cheek made him jerk his head back.

"Hey," Jack said, searching his face. "Take it easy."

Ianto ground his teeth and dug his fingernails into his palm. "What is it you always say? 'You people and your labels'?"

"Ianto..."

"Is it really true, Jack? Do people not care where you're from?"

"When the choice isn't two genders, but two genders of your own species, four from the planet next door, and purple tentacles from a galaxy over, you tend to view things a little more broadly." Jack's fingers, still resting against his cheek, caressed his skin. "It'll change, Ianto."

He met Jack's eyes briefly. "In my lifetime?"

Jack pressed his lips together. "I don't know." For a moment, they stood in silence, Jack's hand frozen against his cheek. "I've seen a lot of change, though."

Ianto carefully unclenched his fingers. "How did you--" He struggled with phrasing the question. "Why don't you--"

"Let it get to me?" Jack offered. He sighed. "Not in my make up, I guess."

Ianto resisted turning and punching the concrete wall. It would hurt. Jack pulled his hand from his cheek and stepped back. Ianto looked up at him.

"Do you want to stay tonight?" Jack asked.

Ianto debated it. Staying for the sake of sticking up his fingers to the universe suddenly had very little attraction. "No, I think I'll go."

Jack hesitated a moment, then stepped aside to let him pass.

\--

St. Mary's Street was busy with pub and club crowds when Ianto took the long route home. Men in Wales rugby shirts with lager cans in their hands jostled for space on the crowded sidewalks with girls wearing too short skirts and too much makeup. Some called good natured insults to each other, others stood in circles and chatted. Ianto found himself ignored, his clothes disqualifying him from participating. He drowned out the din and let his eyes slide over faces, never making contact. Tonight, it suited him.

Home was quiet and stale, and he did the dishes while listening to Radio 1, and he knew he was getting old when none of the tracks meant anything more than endless repetition of the same thing to him. He cleaned, he cooked, he tidied up and changed the sheets. He did the wash and then there was nothing left to do, except sit on his sofa and watch Question Time.

He woke up to late night repeats and a stiff neck, and a first instinct to turn over and reach for Jack.

\--

He put a cup of coffee down on Jack's desk, and Jack caught his hand. "Rough night?"

Ianto smiled and felt it twist into a grimace. "Yep. Or something."

"I wish you'd stayed," Jack said, and it sounded like a confession. It made Ianto shift from one foot to the other. "It felt--" He broke off and looked up at where Ianto stood. "Will you stay tonight?"

"I don't know yet," Ianto replied.

Jack nodded. "Offer's open."

Ianto went home.

\--

He went back an hour later, climbed down into Jack's quarters and stripped off his clothes. Without hesitation, Jack lifted the sheets and invited him in. Ianto kissed him and Jack reciprocated, pushing Ianto onto his back and sliding a hand down his chest.

"I don't want to rock any boats," Jack murmured as Ianto kissed his shoulder, "but why?"

Ianto half shrugged and pressed into Jack's hand. Jack slid it down around Ianto's half-hard cock and stroked gently. Ianto groaned and stilled his mouth against Jack's shoulder.

"Wanna fuck me?" Jack asked matter-of-factly, hand never stopping its up and down slide over Ianto's skin.

Ianto nodded, letting the feel of Jack's fingers around his flesh force all other thoughts from his mind. He shifted out from under Jack, reaching for the lube on the nightstand, and when he flipped the cap open, Jack took his wrist, stopping him.

Ianto looked at him in the shaded lighting of the bunker, and Jack's thumb rubbed over his soft skin. After a few beats, Jack withdrew his hand.

Ianto slicked up his fingers as Jack rolled over, and they dissolved into a ritual that they had performed so often it had become mindless to him. Jack's skin against his, the smell of their sweat, the tang of sex in the air, and Ianto lost himself in watching the muscles play in the curve of Jack's back, the darkening of the short hair on the back of his head, the rough noises he was pulling from Jack's body.

He came and pulled out, rolling to the side, and Jack followed, spooning lightly against him. Ianto reached over his hip and joined Jack's hand in bringing Jack off, feeling him shudder lightly under his touch.

Ianto shifted back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Did you get what you wanted?" Jack asked softly, the covers rustling.

Ianto opened his eyes again to find Jack sitting up, looking at him. The look in his eyes was unreadable, or Ianto didn't want to contemplate what it meant. He swallowed. "I don't know."

Jack leaned over and kissed his temple. Ianto closed his eyes again and went to sleep.

\--

The sun shone, the next day, when he made his way home from work, and it made the sea glitter. He squinted and shielded his eyes against the bright glare, feeling a headache coming on. The day had been long; the days were always long. There were bruises on his back from a fight with a weevil and there were sore muscles that would take too long to heal. He sighed as he opened the door, picking through free-sheets and assorted junk mail, retrieving two bills from the stack and dumping the rest in the rubbish bin.

He cooked dinner and washed up, ate in front of the news, and switched off the telly before he could be tempted to watch Eastenders.

_Ianto Jones, this is your life._

\--

Jack saved him from it, or rather knocked on the door and woke him. Ianto stretched carefully before making his way to the hall and letting Jack in.

Jack smiled at him, calmly taking off his coat and storing it in the hall cupboard. Ianto watched him while leaning against the wall, and finally said, "Missed me, did you?"

Jack glanced over his shoulder. He turned back to straighten the coat and shut the cupboard door, before giving Ianto his attention again. "Might have been." But he wasn't smiling.

Ianto shrugged and led the way to the living room. "Lager?"

Jack shook his head. "No, thanks."

Ianto watched as Jack walked to the window, peeking out at the street. It was something familiar about Jack, always checking his environment. "Don't you ever relax?"

Jack looked over his shoulder, before turning and taking a seat in Ianto's arm chair. "You know I do."

Ianto sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "Yep."

Jack looked at him pointedly. Ianto blinked, then went to take a seat on the sofa. Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Do we need to talk about it?"

Ianto frowned. "About what?"

It was Jack's turn to sigh. "I thought I'd let you deal with it on your own. Whatever it is you're working through. But you're not, are you?"

Ianto ran a hand through his hair. "It'd be easier if you were here for just the sex, Jack."

"Yes," Jack replied, "it would be." He paused, studying Ianto.

Done feeling like a laboratory specimen, Ianto snapped, "Seen enough?"

Jack smiled faintly. "I can pretend I'm just here for the sex, if you want."

"Yes," Ianto replied, edgy, "I want."

Jack left, afterward, and Ianto tossed and turned, dozing but never reaching a relaxing state. In the morning, he walked to work and tried to ignore the cotton feeling in his mouth and head.

\--

He refused to hide in the archives. Instead he did inventory in the hub proper and found he needed to go shopping. He declined to examine the irony in that.

Tesco's was quiet at eleven in the morning. The cashier, who looked too young to be working during school hours, smiled at him and giggled when he smiled back. He looked at her youth; the spots on her face, the heavy mascara, the wrong shade of blue eye shadow that didn't complement her complexion at all, and felt bizarrely old.

When he unpacked the shopping back in the hub, he could feel Jack's eyes on him, and perversely waited until Jack looked away before setting the coffee running. Waiting for the machine, he leaned back against the kitchenette wall, out of sight of the others' prying eyes, and rested his head against the tiles.

He closed his eyes and remembered. Lisa, the feeling of her body against his, her smile, going out on dates, an elderly couple complimenting how Lisa looked... Telling him to _take care of her, young man_. Lisa, still beautiful, in her metal shell.

He swallowed, hard.

Jack, in bed with him, laughing as Ianto found his way around another man's body. Had he been surprised at his own lack of anxiety over that development? As if it was natural that he should one day roll into the bed of a man, after so long with women? Or maybe it was just natural that after how Lisa had died, he shouldn't want to look at a woman any more.

He forced his mind in another direction.

Jack, laughing in the rain and kissing him. Lisa, kissing him when he was promoted to junior researcher. Lisa, taking him to dinner to celebrate. Jack, taking him to dinner and watching him eat ice cream. An older couple, the next table over.

Ianto balled his hands to fists and opened his eyes. He swore softly under his breath, then started and swore loudly when he saw Jack, standing two feet away at the kitchenette's entrance, watching him.

Jack smiled, slightly, and said, "If you won't talk about it, find a way to let it go."

Ianto turned away from Jack's gaze and busied himself with filling mugs. "It's none of your business."

When the words left his mouth, he didn't dare turn around. Jack was silent for a while, and Ianto froze, waiting for him to speak. Then Jack said, "Maybe it isn't."

Ianto stirred cream and sugar into Gwen's brightly coloured mug. He took a breath to speak, and found no words ready. "I..." he said finally, and fell silent again.

"I don't want to lose you," Jack said behind him, and Ianto turned.

Jack smiled again, more of that faint, slight, not-really-there curving of the lips. Ianto's heart ached suddenly, intensely. He opened his mouth to reassure Jack, but the words were still missing.

Jack's expression didn't change, but Ianto's silence had made something shift in him, immeasurably. "Should I ask you to stay tonight?" Jack said, voice low. "Or should I just let you be?"

At last, Ianto found words bubbling up in his mind, and he forced himself to open his mouth. "I don't want to hurt you."

Jack nodded, too quickly. "I know that."

Ianto looked at him for a long time, and neither of them spoke. Then Ianto said, "Give me time."

Jack nodded again, and Ianto felt a stab of something in his chest.

\--

He dozed again, half asleep, half awake, trapped in that strange state of not resting and not being able to direct his mind. When he finally pulled himself up from the grey, his sheets were tangled and damp with sweat, and he dragged himself into the shower for the sheer pleasure of feeling cool water on his skin.

When he came out, he picked up the phone and dialled Jack. "I know it's late," he said when Jack answered. "Can you come over?"

Jack blew out an audible breath. "Yes."

\--

He opened the door and Jack stepped inside, searching his face. Ianto gave him a hesitant smile, and was rewarded with a smile in return.

Jack put away his coat, and they stood facing each other in the dark hallway.

Ianto, unable to find words, stepped forward hesitantly, reaching with one hand and putting it on Jack's hip. Jack blinked, then in the next moment pulled him forward and into his embrace. _Yes_, Ianto thought, and wrapped his own arms around Jack, closing his eyes.

They stood like that, silent still, until Jack said, voice hoarse, "Don't give up on me."

"That wasn't what I was doing," Ianto replied, slowly letting go. He stepped back a little, laying one hand against Jack's cheek. "Throwing babies out with bath water, maybe, but not giving up on _you_."

"Is it over now?"

In the half light and darkness, Ianto saw the naked pain in Jack's eyes. "Yes. No. Maybe."

Jack dropped his gaze for a moment.

"Come to bed, Jack," Ianto said. That, at least, was the thing that always worked between them.

And Jack followed.

\--

His arms wrapped around Jack's waist and his lips against the back of Jack's neck, Ianto confessed. "It was never about you."

"I know."

"But I think I was angry at what you represent." _You were of no help to me._

Jack nodded. "You can't let it dictate you."

"Doesn't make it go away."

"No."

_The impasse_. Ianto knew it so well. His anger simmered rather than boiled, now, but it would be there.

"Ianto..." Jack said, voice low but not incomprehensible. The darkness was so silent, this time of the night.

When Jack faltered, Ianto kissed him, his skin, smelling something familiar, something soothing. Jack was warm, making Ianto dread future heat waves, long for future winters. Jack's hair tickled his nose, and he stopped breathing for a second to keep from sneezing. Silky strands against his skin, and he rubbed his forehead against the back of Jack's head. "No promises."

"I know," Jack said again.

"But we try. Right?"

"What else is this?" Jack might have intended it philosophically, but the truth of it punched Ianto in the chest.

"Jack," he whispered, swallowing past the lump in his throat. He breathed slowly, in and out, twice, before continuing. "Worth it?"

Jack's hand found his. "_Yes_."

"Good enough." Ianto wasn't sure what he was proclaiming, but it didn't matter.

"Hell, yes."

Ianto squeezed his eyes shut at the fierceness in Jack's voice, and pressed his lips against Jack's skin again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Jack gripped his hand. "I understand. I do, Ianto."

Ianto nodded, face in Jack's hair, lips resting against Jack's skin, Jack's heart beat under his palm. "I'm sorry," he said again, and wept.

\--  
_finis_.


End file.
